Things this Apartment Needs
by SqueakGirl
Summary: Stan and Kyle own an apartment together. It's a dump and needs a lot of things. Kyle thinks it needs kitchen supplies and a fresh coat of paint. Stan thinks it needs a dog to liven the place up. Style.


Hello, again. Here's a cute fic about puppies and Style. I don't think you can go wrong with that combination, can you? Anyway, enjoy the absurd fan fic.

**Summary:** Stan and Kyle own an apartment together. It's a dump and needs a lot of things. Kyle thinks it needs kitchen supplies and a fresh coat of paint. Stan thinks it needs a dog to liven the place up.

**Rating:** T (Language only)

**Pairing:** Style

**Disclaimer:** I do not own South Park or its characters. This is purely for fun and some writing practice.

If you couldn't tell, I'm a dog lover.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Things this Apartment Needs<strong>_

Stan and Kyle's first home together was a tiny, cramped apartment located in the heart of South Park. It rested across the street from Tweak Bros Coffee, where the boys' old school friend now worked with his father. The apartment itself featured warped walls painted a hideous shade of green, a leaking kitchen faucet that sprayed Kyle in the face the first time he used it, and an unusual stain in the middle of the hallway's carpet that the two dreaded might have once been blood. But despite its failing light fixtures and dysfunctional amenities, Stan and Kyle loved their little home.

It was theirs. They had paid for it, and they could call it their own.

Now finished with college the boys had moved into their apartment with the hope of making a start in their now 'real world' lives. Although Kyle would have preferred to move as far away from his parents and the small mountain town as possible, neither boy could yet afford to break free of South Park. Kyle attended Grad school at a local college about forty five minutes east of their small town. To his mother and father's dismay, he had changed his major half-way through his Junior year and had decided not to become a lawyer like his dad, but a math teacher instead. Stan supported the choice; seeing how Kyle was somehow programmed to not only solve tough and intricate problems, but held the capacity to explain them in layman's terms with little to no effort. Stan had lost count of the times Kyle had had to coach him through algebra exams and geometry proofs just to scrape by with a low B-. To his credit, Stan was now interning at South Park's Veterinary Hospital. After high school Stan had changed his focus from college football to veterinarian science. His love of animals had spilled over into his studies at college, and he found himself taking course after course on how to care and diagnose certain animals. His love for animal rights also grew. Several times he'd dragged Kyle off to some protest to save whales or wild turkeys or tigers. The last protest had resulted in the two of them, along with Kenny, running for their lives through an overcrowded zoo. Kenny didn't make it, of course, but he did show up the next morning to Stan and Kyle's dorm room to bitch them out for letting him fall flat on his face with the tiger right on their heels.

At the vet Stan came in contact with a lot of injured and ill cats and dogs along with the occasional hamster or parrot. Craig Tucker, who now worked at the new tattoo parlor right next door to Tweak Bros Coffee, often stopped by to wheedle free medical advice from Stan on his pet guinea pigs. After the fifteenth time, however, Kyle reprimanded Stan for letting Craig take advantage of his kindness. Stan only shrugged it off claiming that he didn't really care as long as Stripe Jr. was in good health. Animals were Stan's biggest weakness. If it wasn't for Kyle, their tiny apartment might have been filled from wall to wall with poor sighted dogs, underfed kittens or half-plucked parakeets.

The argument over owning a pet was a reoccurring debate with the couple. Stan had brought his old dog Sparky to live with them during the first few months in their new home. Sadly, the good old dog died in his sleep one night last winter leaving Stan heartbroken, but also eager to fill the void with a new pet. Kyle, who had never owned anything, but an elephant briefly in the third grade, was wary of letting anymore animals into their apartment. Sparky had been old and manageable, but a new puppy or kitten would need constant attention.

"It's not that hard to take care of a new puppy," Stan reassured him for the fifth time that night since the topic surfaced. The two sat across from one another at their tiny kitchen table. A large bowl of pasta rested between them. They had neglected to buy kitchenware and owned only three bowls; two small ones and a large glass salad dish that Kyle had used to plate the spaghetti. One pot, four round pizza pans, a colander and a wide array of plastic silverware and chopsticks made up the only other cooking supplies the boys owned. Stan had recently acquired a set of Denver Broncos memorabilia which included a set of glass mugs with the team's logo and mascot painted down the sides. He had found the glasses in a garage sale. Kyle didn't complain; before Stan had found the mugs, they'd been using red and blue plastic party cups.

Kyle leaned over the table and grabbed a clump of noodles and flopped them into his small bowl. He didn't look up as he spoke.

"Look, dude, a pet wouldn't be very practical at the moment," Kyle said. He twirled some spaghetti on the end of his plastic fork. After eating they always rewashed the plastic ware. Kyle kept the kitchen drawers organized with a thorough count on the utensils. He made sure they never accidently threw one away.

Stan frowned. "Dude, but I really think it would be cool to get like another dog. Or maybe a cat."

"Stan," Kyle sighed, picking apart a piece of burnt garlic toast. Stan had been responsible for the bread that evening.

"What?" Stan crossed his arms. "You loved Sparky. You like dogs, right?"

"I think dogs are awesome, dude, but right now we can't really afford to get a dog. We'd have to feed it, clean it, and keep up with any medical bills. Sparky really took a toll on our budget last fall when he started losing his eyesight," Kyle tried to explain softly. Stan still didn't like to dwell on Sparky's last months. The poor dog had gotten pretty sick right there up at the end.

"Dude, I'm training to be a vet. I can totally diagnose the dog and keep it perfectly healthy," Stan countered, taking a mouthful of his own spaghetti.

Kyle shook his head. "But if it gets sick it still needs medicine. Last time I checked, interning at South Park Veterinary Hospital didn't get you a discount on animal meds. They still cost money."

"But I think it's what this place is missing," Stan struggled further. He looked up sheepishly at his boyfriend and gave a hopeful smile. Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Stan, this place is missing a lot of things, and a dog is not one of them. We still need to repaint the bedroom, fix the tile in the bathroom, and get a new lock for the front door. And don't get me started on the kitchen sink. I had to change my clothes twice today 'cause that goddamn thing kept spraying me with water every time I turned it on."

Stan grinned. He'd walked in on Kyle changing during the second time and had distracted him for a few hours before both of them decided to put on some dryer clothes.

"But we had fun with that," Stan murmured into his pasta. Kyle blushed, but still managed to roll his eyes.

"I'm serious, Stan. We just can't afford a dog right now, okay? Maybe later on down the road we could get a small one or a cat." Kyle wrinkled his nose at the latter suggestion. Cats reminded Kyle of Cartman.

Stan slumped back in his seat defeated. He picked at his food for the remainder of the meal as Kyle switched the conversation to his mock lesson plans he needed to finish for the week. Stan sighed into his food. He knew Kyle was right. Kyle was always right, but Stan still wished for a pet.

When the meal ended, Stan and Kyle washed the dishes together. Kyle meticulously scrubbed the food and grim from their only bowls, and Stan dried them carefully. Afterwards, the two retired to their small bedroom. The room was half the size of the living/kitchen area that took up the rest of the apartment. Their bedroom consisted of a king-sized bed Kyle had managed to wheedle his parents into purchasing for them as a 'house-warming' gift. Gerald and Sheila, still disappointed in their son's switch in majors, had been reluctant at first, but when the Broflovski's saw the shack of an apartment their eldest son was now living in, decided to indulge in Kyle's only request. Meanwhile, Stan's mother had donated sheets, pillows, and several thick quilts. Randy had offered a lumpy brown couch he'd found in a storage garage he'd won at an auction.

Cramming into the tiny bathroom, Kyle brushed his teeth while Stan showered. They switched and Kyle showered while Stan brushed and flossed. Then they headed to bed. Tomorrow was a Saturday, but Kyle had a class to attend and needed to rise early. Neither boy stayed up later than the other. When one went to bed, the other followed. Kyle settled down on their bed which took up most of the room. He watched over the side as Stan did a set of sit-ups before retiring to bed as well. Turning off the light, Stan slid into bed next to Kyle. Instinctively, Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle's waist, while Kyle buried his head against Stan's chest. Resting against the same pillow, the two began to drift into sleep. A few moments passed in silence as both listened to the other's soft breathing and the ticking of the alarm clock.

Finally Stan whispered, "What kind of dog should we get?"

Kyle rolled his eyes even though in the dark Stan could not see.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Kyle mumbled, rubbing his temple.

"We should get a mutt. From the shelter you know. That's always best," Stan continued, absentmindedly running his fingers through Kyle's curly red hair.

"Mmmhmm, sure, hun," Kyle said, yawning.

"Maybe we'll find one like Sparky," Stan went on, "or find one like a Golden Retriever."

"Sure, why not."

"Or a dog that looks like Lassie. I always liked Collies."

"I like how you're mentioning breeds that are way too big for this apartment," Kyle noted. Stan shrugged.

"I'm not a big fan of small dogs."

"Doesn't matter. We'd need a dog that fits this apartment. Plus I think the landlord only allows small dogs."

Stan nodded, frowning.

"Well, how about we get –"

"Stan! Go to sleep."

"Sorry, Kyle. Night."

"Goodnight, Stan."

Kyle leaned up and pecked a light kiss upon Stan's lips and then settled back down. Stan smiled to himself and snuggled his face into Kyle's frizzy head. Stan would continue his pet argument tomorrow.

* * *

><p>The next morning Stan and Kyle ate breakfast together before starting their day. Kyle packed his backpack at the table and headed downstairs once they'd finished the dishes. Stan parted ways with Kyle in front of the truck the two owned. It had once belonged to Stan's father, but now Kyle used it to commute to and from school. Stan could walk to the vet from their apartment. Bidding his boyfriend goodbye, Stan pulled Kyle into a tight embrace, kissing him soundly. Kyle clambered into the truck, and Stan waved as it pulled out into the morning traffic.<p>

Retreating to the apartment, Stan dressed and shuffled about the house picking up discarded socks and straightening the throw pillows on their ugly brown couch. Slumping down onto the sofa, Stan flicked on the television. Although everything else in their apartment was either broken or handy-me-down, their big flat screen TV was not. Stan and Kyle agreed they could live without proper silverware as long as they had video games and television. Not even Kyle saw the choice as impractical.

Flicking through the channels, Stan landed on Animal Planet and paused. Kyle didn't like Stan watching that particular channel for too long. It often resulted in Stan cornering Kyle and relaying important facts on dog-nail clipping or produced a distraught Stan crying into Kyle's shoulder and recalling a sad episode of Animal Cops.

Today, however, Stan caught the middle of a show detailing fun facts about various puppy breeds. Stan found himself glued to the program, mentally taking note about which breeds made good apartment pets while others needed more space to roam. He found himself clutching a pillow to his chest, pretending it was Sparky and wishing desperately the old gay dog was still alive. His eyes rested on a small wooden box sitting on a small table in the corner of the room. On the box was carved a bone with Sparky's name etched upon it. Stan had insisted they keep the little box displayed. Kyle never protested.

Stan wiped his fist over his eyes and turned back to his television show. Now a new show started which featured dog trainers coaching a family on how to teach their new puppy tricks and obedience. Stan thought wistfully of how Sparky had played fetch and could shake on command. Stan smiled thinking about one time when Sparky had grabbed both of Stan's house slippers and rather than return them to their owner, took them into his parents' bedroom and switched them with his father's own pair. It was the weirdest trick the dog knew, and Stan, at eight years old, had thought it hilarious when his father went to put on his own pair of slippers only to find them several sizes too small. The first time Sparky switched the slippers Randy actually thought he was becoming a giant and startled Sharon out of her sleep to announce this discovery. Sharon pointed out immediately that Randy did not own a pair of slippers with Terrence and Phillip stitched upon their front.

Stan sighed. He really missed Sparky.

Late in the afternoon, Kyle returned home to find Stan sprawled across the couch, clutching Sparky's wooden box and watching Animal Planet. Kyle threw down his bag and marched over to the couch, and sat down on the armrest.

"Dude, what are you doing?"

"I miss Sparky."

Kyle sighed. "What have I told you about watching Animal Planet when I'm not home?"

"Kyle, there was this show where this family got a new Pit Bull. His name was Lugnut, and he liked to chew on the handles of screwdrivers."

"That's nice, Stan," Kyle said, scooting down onto the end of the couch. He reached out a hand. "I think you should put Sparky's box back on the table."

"And then there was this cat with two different colored eyes. She lost her kittens, but took care of this little baby ferret this one lady owned," Stan continued as if he hadn't heard Kyle.

Kyle moved up the couch and sat on the edge right next to Stan.

"Give me Sparky, Stan," Kyle urged. Stan relented and allowed Kyle to take the urn box from him and replace it on the corner table. Kyle returned to the couch and began caressing Stan's cheek.

"Stan, you got to stop doing this to yourself. We'll get a new dog one day."

Stan took Kyle's hand and kissed it.

"I just miss him. He was my dog for like forever."

Kyle nodded. "He was a good dog."

"Yeah."

Kyle leaned down and kissed Stan on the forehead. He then stood up and looked down at his boyfriend with a sigh. Running his hands through his unruly hair, Kyle shook his head looking defeated.

"Fuck it. Let's get a new dog. Next week we can go looking at the shelter."

With that said Kyle drifted into their kitchen. He began pulling out fixings for a sandwich. As if in a daze, Stan scrambled up off the couch and followed. He watched Kyle for a few minutes, spreading mustard and slicing tomatoes. Stan then stepped forward and snaked his arms around Kyle's waist pulling him into a hug from behind. He rested his head atop Kyle's Jewfro and smiled into the curls. Kyle was a head shorter than Stan.

"Dude, can I make my sandwich?" Kyle laughed, reaching behind him and patting Stan on the head.

"I love you."

Kyle laughed.

"I love you too."

* * *

><p>When Monday rolled around, Kyle met Stan after work and the two ventured into the animal shelter located down the road from the vet. Inside the shelter dogs whined and yapped as the two boys wandered down the aisles. Stan ran his hand over the wire cages, peering inside each one he passed. Kyle walked a few paces behind, keeping his arms tightly crossed over his chest and trying not to brush the cages with his elbows.<p>

They examined about twelve dogs before Stan pointed at a large dog in the back of the shelter. It had a great mangy coat and soft brown eyes. He looked like a Sheepdog. Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"Stan, he's too big for the apartment," Kyle stated.

"No, dude, I checked with the landlord and he doesn't care how big a dog we get as long as we keep him quiet and stuff," Stan explained.

Kyle stared at him. "He's still too big for _our_ apartment."

Stan sighed. "I'm sure we could manage?"

Kyle gave Stan a look.

"Alright, alright…but I don't see any others I really like."

"What about this one." Kyle pointed to a small Poodle with matted fur. Stan wrinkled his nose.

"I hate lap dogs."

"This one?"

"He's just a pup and his paws are pretty big, he'll be a big dog when he's older."

Kyle backed up to another cage and pointed. "This one looks small enough."

"His eyes are kind of shifty."

"Seriously?"

"That's important, Kyle."

"Fine."

Kyle just continued to point at random dogs throughout the shelter. Each one Stan shot down either claiming they were not loyal looking enough or too small for Stan's taste. One Pug panted too much, a Terrier's fur looked too faded and unhealthy, and a Cocker Spaniel bit Stan's fingers when he tried to pet it. They had gone through ever dog in the shelter and none of them pleased Stan save for the shaggy Sheepdog. Kyle refused to get the huge dog. Their apartment was just too tiny.

"Stan, we can just come back another time. When they've found more dogs," Kyle said helpfully. Stan paled at this idea. He didn't say it out loud, but the next time they'd visit some of these dogs might not be here. And not because they'd found owners.

"Yeah, we can just come back," Stan replied, defeated. Kyle patted him on the shoulder.

They left the shelter for the day.

That evening Kyle volunteered to cook again. Stan had insisted on being a vegetarian ever since his Senior year in high school. Kyle had managed to convince his boyfriend to make fish an exception, however. Kyle could only stand to eat soybeans and vegetables for so long. Seeing how Stan had never been fond of fish since that one particular Halloween back in Elementary school, he had agreed to Kyle's dietary request. Tonight Kyle pulled two frozen pieces of fish from their pitifully stocked freezer and threw them on one of their many pizza pans placing it in the oven to bake. Stan, meanwhile, sat forlornly in his seat at the kitchen table and fiddled with a business card the shelter had provided. It featured a picture of a black and white puppy nestled next to a yellow-eyed kitten. Stan sighed as he examined it. Kyle rolled his eyes and took the card from his boyfriend's hands.

"Stan, quit moping, okay? We'll find you a good dog alright."

Stan nodded, smiling. "I'm sorry. Just seeing those dogs made me so happy. I want to go back tomorrow and see them."

Kyle smiled too and leaned against Stan's side and rested his cheek against the top of his head.

"You're such a pussy, dude," Kyle murmured. Stan laughed.

"I know."

Stan pulled Kyle down into his lap and kissed him. They stayed wrapped together until Kyle's wristwatch beeped. The oven timer proved faulty (one reason for the other night's burnt garlic bread), and the boys began to rely more on their own watches than the oven's clock. Kyle slid reluctantly out of Stan's grasp. The rest of the evening was spent with Kyle trying to distract Stan from thinking about animals. He'd suggested a movie, and the two spent an hour or two watching _Monty Python and Holy Grail_, quoting along with the dialogue. Afterwards, Kyle retired to the bedroom with Stan and readied for bed, following the same routine and pattern as the night before. Sitting in bed, Kyle opened a worn out paperback novel and began reading. Stan decided to read with him and crawled over to the pile of books the two kept in the corner of their bedroom. Getting a bookshelf was next on the list Kyle had titled '_Things this Shitty Apartment Needs_.'

After a few minutes of toppling and rearranging stacks of books, Stan let out a long sigh. Kyle looked up from his paperback.

"What?"

"I forgot…."

Kyle knitted his brows confused. "What?"

"I own _Old Yeller_."

Kyle groaned. "Well, don't read that one."

Stan let out another strangled noise. Kyle put down his book.

"What now?"

"_Where the Red Fern Grows_."

"Jesus Christ, Stan."

"I know. It's terrible. I'm sorry."

Kyle crawled to the end of the bed. "Just forget about it. Come up here with me."

Reaching out, Kyle tugged on Stan's t-shirt. Stan scrambled up to him and lay down. Stan frowned, burying his head in Kyle's chest. Kyle couldn't help but laugh.

"Dammit, why do I have all these dog-dying books?" Stan moaned.

Kyle stroked Stan's forehead.

"Well, you've had them since you were a kid, right? I think it's 'cause they like to trick kids with these novels. See they tell you the story's about a dog, right? And so when you're a kid you're like cool dogs. But what these books really want to do is scare little kids from getting dogs at all. There more like 'oh, you want a dog? Well, kid, it's going to die!' And then kids are like fuck that noise, I'm getting a Game Boy because at least when that dies you can replace the batteries."

Stan stared at Kyle for a few seconds, before bursting into laughter. Kyle shrugged his shoulders and moved to pick up his paperback.

"That's not exactly the reason those books are written, dude," Stan said. He moved to lean against Kyle as the other read. Kyle turned a page.

"Well, either way, I never liked those kinds of books," Kyle said, rubbing at his nose. Stan kissed Kyle's cheek. Slowly Stan inched his hand up under Kyle's cotton pajama top. The redhead squirmed, still holding onto his book.

"Don't distract me."

"But I want another kiss."

Turning to face his boyfriend, Kyle grabbed Stan's ears and tugged the other towards him. They locked lips, and Kyle felt Stan's hand travel higher up over his stomach and onto his chest, unbuttoning his pajama top along the way. Parting for breath, Kyle pulled away, and Stan leaned over him pouting.

"Dude?"

"Let me finish my page first!"

Stan raised an eyebrow.

Kyle held out his hands. "What? It was getting interesting!"

"That book is more interesting than what I just did?" Stan deadpanned. Kyle rolled his eyes.

"No, of course not," Kyle reassured haughtily. He turned back to his book, his top now completely unbuttoned, and continued to read. Stan buried his head in the pillows and waited. When Kyle finished he replaced his bookmark and snapped the book closed. The soft pages made a muffled sound. Tossing the book to the floor, Kyle rolled over and prodded Stan in the side.

"Okay, I'm done."

Stan didn't answer. Kyle jabbed him harder.

"I'm sleeping. You're too late," Stan chuckled into his pillow. Kyle punched him lightly in the ribs.

"Give me a kiss, stupid."

* * *

><p>The next day Stan sat at the check-out counter in the South Park Vet. He rested during a five minute break and spent most of it talking to a young woman who'd brought in a Whippet. Stan found the dog adorable. He was just about to ask where the woman had obtained the skinny pup, when the front door to the clinic chimed with the arrival of another customer.<p>

Stan straightened up and gave a small wave. It was Craig Tucker again. The surly young man marched up to the front desk. With his sleeves rolled up, Stan could see the beginning etchings of various and elaborate tattoos on Craig's lower arms and wrists. One Stan noticed resembled the Nazca Lines, only he didn't recognize the figure as any of the existing shapes found in Peru. However, when Craig moved close enough for the tattoo to be examined properly, Stan smiled. The lines formed the image of a guinea pig.

"How's Stripe Jr., Craig?" Stan asked politely. But his smiled faded, seeing Craig's piercing glare.

"You got to come with me, Marsh," Craig commanded. Stan blinked.

"Dude, what? I only get a five minute break, I can't leave."

Craig stuffed his hands in his pocket. He looked quite relaxed and a bit put-out, but his tone of voice hinted at some sort of emergency.

"I don't care. You need to get down to Tweak Bros Coffee," Craig explained further.

"I don't see why I have to," Stan challenged. "Now, if you want some more advice on Stripe Jr. I'll be glad to help you, Craig."

"Don't need that," Craig grunted his response. Stan narrowed his eyes.

"Okay. Then what the hell do you want, Craig?"

"Tweek called me, said he needed someone who knew about animals. So, I've come to fetch you," Craig explained. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if Craig was trying to be cryptic on purpose.

"Why does Tweek need to know about animals that he can't just come in and ask me himself?" Stan questioned. Craig raised and lowered one shoulder.

"Guess it's 'cause he's sort of cornered by a stray and rabid dog at the moment," Craig revealed. Stan stared.

"What?"

"Apparently a dog got into the coffee shop, and he's not sure what to do about it."

"What?"

"Tweek says it's crazy. Don't want to get bit, do I?" Craig stated. Stan shook his head in disbelief.

"Look, Craig, I'm not the one you should be coming to. You need to call the animal shelter to come and pick it up. Okay?"

"Or you could stop being an asshole and come help me save Tweek," Craig offered. Stan just threw up his arms and agreed. He was sick of talking with Craig and felt the other wouldn't be out of his hair until he'd helped him. Rushing to the back room, Stan found his supervisor and explained he needed to leave early.

When Stan and Craig reached the coffee shop it was deserted. It did not look as if a mad rush for the exit had occurred. Everything in the shop appeared in perfect order, and Tweek was nowhere to be found. Taking the lead, Craig moved towards the back room. Stan wondered how serious the situation would turn out. He was beginning to wonder if Tweek and Craig had over exaggerated this so called rabid dog. The store looked perfectly normal.

In the back of the shop was a small kitchen. Standing upon the stainless steel counter top was Tweek. He wore the usual Tweak Bros uniform which consisted of a green and yellow apron over a maroon colored shirt. Tweek's cornstalk colored hair stuck out in a frantic manner, and the straps of his apron drooped lop-sided with one longer than the other. When he saw the other two Tweek let out a gasp of relief and shrieked about not going near the cupboard. Pointing across the room, Tweek warned Stan that the dog was hiding in the closet.

"Oh, Jesus! It's in there. Oh God, Stan, help me!"

Stan raised his hands. "Just calm down, dude. I'm sure the dog's more scared of you than you are of him."

Craig snorted behind him. "Bullshit."

"GAH!" Tweek mumbled, dancing in place next to the sink. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Now, Tweek, do you think something's wrong with the dog? Was it foaming at the mouth? How big is it?"

Tweek's eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to recall any information about the dog.

"He's big," was all Stan got Tweek to divulge about the situation.

Throwing caution to the wind, Stan stalked over towards the cupboard door. It stood ajar, and Stan stopped to listen. He heard no sounds within. Pushing the door open further, a thin strip of light slithered across the floor and illuminated shelves filled with bags of coffee beans and sacks of sugar and flour. In one corner stood a broom and dustpan while in the opposite corner curled up in sleep lay a shaggy blond dog. It was a mutt as far as Stan could tell. It was about medium size in build. Not big at all. Skinny with scruffy, pointed ears, the dog sported muddy paws and a long, feathered tail. From where he stood, Stan could not see anything wrong with the mutt. No foam collected at its mouth, and although it was clearly underfed, its body seemed unharmed and its coat only wanting in a decent bath.

Stan knelt down a few paces from the dog and gave a low whistle. Instantly the dog perked up its wolf-like ears and raised its head. Stan and the dog stared at one another for a few moments. The feathered tail gave a hearty wag, before the mutt scrambled to his feet and bounded towards Stan. Reaching out a hand, Stan offered it to the dog to sniff. Finding Stan satisfactory, the mutt began licking his fingers. Stan chuckled seeing the dog's purple tongue. He stretched out his palm and gave the dog a friendly pat on the head. Without hesitation or struggle, Stan lifted the dog up into his arms and carried him out into the kitchen.

Tweek still stood upon the counter and panicked when he saw the dog in Stan's arms. Dashing across the metal surface, Tweek launched himself from the sink and landed next to Craig. Although he was several inches taller than his tattooed friend, Tweek ducked behind Craig and hid. Craig continued to look bored about the whole scenario.

"So, that the monster dog you were telling me about, Tweek?" Craig asked lightly. He yawned. Tweek shivered.

"GAH! Yes, oh Jesus, Stan, keep him away from me!"

Stan laughed.

"Dude, he's harmless. He's still just a pup. He probably snuck in here looking for scraps."

"Don't think dogs like coffee," Craig commented dryly. Stan rolled his eyes. The dog in his arms barked appreciatively, his tail still wagging.

"He doesn't look like he's got anything wrong with him. No sores or open wounds, and he's not foaming at the mouth. I think the worst this little guy's got is fleas. He just needs a good bath," Stan explained. Tweek poked his head out from behind, Craig's back.

"So – gah – he's not going to kill me?" Tweek asked.

"Doesn't look like it," answered Craig for Stan. Having been reassured that he wasn't going to be mauled, Tweek ventured over to Stan and asked if he could pet the dog. Tentatively Tweek rested his hand atop the dog's scruffy head. He held it there for a few moments until the dog gave a soft yap and the blond skittered backwards.

Stan chuckled.

"He's not going to hurt you, Tweek," Craig stated. "Next time make sure there's actually a threat to your life before calling me out of work."

Stan wanted to point of the slight hypocrisy in Craig's statement, but decided against it. Tweek, on the other hand, just nodded in response.

Shifting his weight, Stan took a better hold on the dog and his hand touched something sticky. Pulling his fingers away he saw strawberry jam. Looking at the dog in the light, Stan saw it was covered in flour, bits of jam, and doughnut glaze. The ingredients were matted into the mutt's fur.

"He try to steal your pastries, Tweek?" Stan asked.

Craig leaned over the dog. "Looks like it."

Tweek nodded, his left eye still twitching despite the relieved smile spreading across his face.

"When he first slipped into the shop, he hopped up onto the front counter. I was reading the paper with a doughnut in my hand. He took it right from me," Tweek explained sheepishly. "It…uh…gah – startled me."

"Startled?" Craig repeated.

Tweek nodded.

"Gah! Well, maybe that's not the right word…."

* * *

><p>Later that evening when Kyle arrived home, he stopped at the threshold of his apartment and pondered over why a tennis ball sat in the middle of the living room floor. On closer inspection, Kyle noted that not only was there a tennis ball, but a rawhide bone and what appeared to be Sparky's favorite chew toy; a stuffed squirrel that squeaked when squeezed.<p>

"Stan?" Kyle called. He heard laughter and then a small bark echoed from the bathroom. Scrambling towards the bedroom, Kyle discovered more of Sparky's old toys along with the dog's collar and leash lying neatly atop the bed covers. Turning his attention to the closed bathroom door, Kyle paused to listen. He heard splashing and another bark.

Finding the door locked, Kyle pounded out a knock. The barking and laughing stopped inside.

"Dude, what the hell?" Kyle called through the door. "Did you go get a dog without me?"

A click sounded and the bathroom door pulled slowly open. Stan peered at Kyle through a sliver in the door.

"Hi, honey, how was your day at school?" Stan said innocently. Kyle glared at him and shoved his way through the door.

Sitting in the middle of the bathtub, covered in suds, was a dog with wet blond fur. It moved towards the edge of the tub when it saw Kyle and began wagging its tail. Stan beamed down at him. The young man's shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and he had soap suds in his black hair.

"What is this, Stan?" Kyle said pointing at the mutt.

"A dog," Stan answered, smiling winningly.

"I thought we were going to get one together?" Kyle pressed, backing Stan into a corner near the toilet.

"I know, dude, but I found him today. He's a stray."

Kyle whipped around to look at the dog.

"He's got no problems if you're wondering. I just got him home after our trip to Pet Smart. I got him a whole set of tennis balls and this awesome toy that you can hide treats in," Stan explained excitedly.

Kyle shook his head, rubbing his temple.

"He's a pretty decent size dog, don't you think? Not too big, right?" Stan asked, nudging Kyle in the side.

"Yes…he's not too big," Kyle admitted reluctantly.

"And he's pretty well behaved. Doesn't like big noises, though. I sneezed real loud an hour ago, and the little guy went scurrying under the bed."

"Stan, where'd you get him?"

Explaining his day's little adventure, Stan walked Kyle through the anti-climatic events at Tweak Bros Coffee. He explained Tweek's overreaction, and Craig's lack of one. Finishing up his tale, Stan said he'd taken the dog to get food and some other necessities at the pet store.

Kyle knelt down to get a better look at the dog and couldn't help but smile at his shaggy appearance. For some reason Kyle was reminded strongly of Kenny McCormick. The dog watched Kyle carefully, the long, feathered tail still wagging. Kyle reached out a hand and petted the mutt atop his damp head, scratching behind the dog's ears as he did so.

"What's his name?" Kyle asked still petting the dog.

"Donut."

Kyle snorted.

"Cute."

The boys finished up Donut's bath and dried the scruffy dog off. Now clean, his fur felt soft and light to the touch; the coat shined. Donut couldn't stop licking his new masters. Kyle laughed when he discovered the mutt had a purple tongue. Stan carried the dog to the bed and fastened Sparky's old collar around Donut's neck. Stan had already purchased a new metal ID tag reading:

_Donut  
>Apt. 1113<br>910 Main Street  
>South Park, CO<em>

"I'll get him some routine shots tomorrow at work," Stan said.

Kyle raised an eyebrow as he examined the tag.

"I like how you went through with all this without even calling to ask me whether I wanted this dog or not."

Stan was quiet for a moment. Donut rolled onto his back and kicked his legs into the air; an invitation for belly rubs. Kyle eyed Donut warily, but then caved and petted the dog's chest.

"But see, I didn't call you cause – cause…," Stan rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I knew- knew you'd love him too, and he's not too big, right? You said yourself he was okay size."

Kyle frowned. "I did."

"So we can keep him?"

"I still wish you'd told me first, dude."

Stan ducked his head.

"Sorry."

Kyle let Donut lick his fingers for a few minutes, before he stood up and sat down next to Stan on the bed. Donut moved to sit in Stan's lap.

"He's pretty well-behaved," Kyle commented. Stan looked up hopefully. Kyle was smiling again.

"You forgive me?" Stan asked.

"Duh, dude. We got a new dog!"

Stan laughed and pulled Kyle into a hug. Donut jumped playfully between them, licking first at Kyle's ears and then Stan's jaw.

"So, you aren't mad at me?"

Kyle leaned over and kissed Stan. "Of course I'm still annoyed, but you'll just have to promise not to do it again."

"But what if I find another awesome stray trying to attack Tweek?"

Thinking about it, Kyle said, "No. You still can't take in another stray."

"What about if it attacked Craig?"

"No."

"Cartman?"

"Well, if that happens you will definitely have to call me so that I can see the attack in person. I'd bring popcorn and a lawn chair to sit in as I watched the show."

Stan chuckled, kissing Kyle too. Donut began nibbling on Kyle's hair. The redhead frowned.

"Guess he doesn't like your hair," Stan smiled.

Kyle moved away and glared at the dog. Donut stared back, flicking his tail back and forth.

"Don't test me, mutt," Kyle warned. Donut cocked his head to the side. Stan turned Donut around in his arms and gave the dog a reprimanding look.

"You like Kyle's Jewfro, right, Donut?" Stan asked. "It's quite lovely."

The dog barked, shaking as its tail waved back and forth. Stan beamed at Kyle.

"See, dude, he loves it. No worries."

Kyle shook his head, grinning. "I see."

Stan hugged the dog to his chest. Kyle softened. Stan was just too happy. It was contagious.

"So, you're making dinner tonight," Kyle said standing up and walking out of the bedroom. "Should I get the fire extinguisher out now?"

Stan frowned following with Donut at his heels.

"Very funny, dude," Stan called. "We just need to get a better kitchen timer."

Kyle paused now in the kitchen and turned around. He leaned against the stove, glancing from Stan to Donut.

"Well, I guess we'll put that on our list of '_Things this Shitty Apartment Needs_'."

Stan nodded. "At least we can cross off one thing from that list now."

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "We can?"

Stan pointed at Donut. "Got the dog, don't we?"

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed.<p>

**_Please feel free to review. Comments and constructive criticism welcomed and appreciated._**


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